La Reine Blanche
by kellycc23
Summary: Starts after season 1 finale. Mary/Francis, Mary/Bash, Bash/Kenna, Francis/Lola. Multiple POVs. Please review!
1. Chapter 1

Mary was using all of her inner strength to maintain her outward composure. She knew how she had to appear - strong, defiant, and with no regrets. She was not only Queen of Scotland, she was now also Queen of France, and she had a duty to protect the French people. It was the same duty Francis had - though he had chosen to ignore this, and so the responsibility fell to her.

Mary watched for as long as she could as Francis ran off - until he finally faded into the French countryside. He had shown little hesitation to go to Lola. Of course, it was at Mary's urgings that he do so, but she couldn't help feeling slightly hurt at his rush to go. And his adamance to go, even once the news of plague had come, hurt her the most. Francis was willing to risk his life, as the King of France, as well the lives of those around him, so that he could be with Lola.

Lola did need help - she was in the midst of a birth, which, by the tone of her letters, seemed difficult to say the least. Regardless of what had happened, Mary did not want her dear friend to die. But could Francis really prevent that from happening? He was not a midwife, nor a doctor. He had gone to her simply to be comforting, so that she would know the father of her child was close by as she struggled.

Finally, Mary turned her gaze, slowly making her way back into the castle. There was nothing further she could do for Francis - she had to focus on her people at Court. Once uttered, the word "plague" drove a fear like none other into men's hearts. Worse than war, everyone knew, plague came unexpected and quickly, and it spared no one.

She came upon Catherine first, who was waiting anxiously for news of what had transpired. Her face fell as soon as she saw Mary, walking back alone.

"I take it Francis has gone, then?" Catherine asked simply, wishing that she was wrong in her assumptions.

Mary took a breath, not wanting to admit that she could not convince him to stay. "Indeed, he has gone to Lola…" she trailed off, realizing Catherine did not know about Lola's predicament.

"Lola? Is she not with her new husband in the countryside?"

Mary shook her head, slowly. The last thing she wanted was for Catherine to find out about Francis and Lola. She thought Catherine was so far sympathetic to Mary's issues with conceiving, as Catherine herself had become pregnant immediately. But Mary could not help feeling anxious about the fact that Lola's womb had quickened with child on just one try, making her think that the problem was with her. And this was not a thought that Mary wanted to put into Catherine's mind.

Still, it had come to the point where she could not lie about it. Catherine had the right to know, just as she decided Francis had the right to know.

Mary gathered that inner strength once more, looking Catherine straight in the eye. "Francis is the father of Lola's child, a child that is being born - or trying to be born - this very moment, in the village. Sadly, her husband has died, so Lola is alone. Francis has gone to be with her, to help her through."

Catherine, clearly stunned, brought her hand to her chest to try to gather her composure. From the interactions within the castle, there was no reason to believe that Francis and Lola had ever had a relationship of any sort, let alone sleep together.

"I… don't know what to say," Catherine struggled, clearly unsure of how to proceed with the news. "I suppose I know how you feel, my dear. This seems to be quite the same thing I went through with Diane. She had her first child before I had mine, as well."

It was exactly what Mary did not want to hear. Her worst fear was that Lola would become a permanent fixture in Francis's life - and how could she not, bearing his first living child? Francis could become attached to her, as was only natural. And Mary could very well become just like Catherine.

Exhausted by these thoughts, Mary couldn't go on speaking any longer. "Please excuse me, your grace, I must prepare to address everyone shortly to let them know what has happened. I'd like to freshen up first."

It was her way of escaping the conversation, on a topic which she did not want to explore any further. She began by quickly walking back into the main halls of the castle, avoiding gazes by looking at her feet rather than ahead of her. She feared that her tears would spring forward at any moment, and the last thing she wanted was to betray her own weakness.

Though she tried to maintain a calm composure, her quick steps eventually turned to a run, as her impatience crept up. She wanted to be alone, and she cursed the large size of the castle which prevented her from getting to her chambers quickly. No doubt she was passing many concerned faces, but she didn't much care, as long as they did not see her completely break down.

She looked up for brief seconds at a time, in order to ensure she was headed in the right direction. Her heart leapt as she was about to turn the corner for her chambers, and she took the turn sharply, as a sort of race to the finish. As she was expecting to be within near seconds of thrusting open her door, she was completely unprepared for the collision that followed. She knocked straight into another person, sending her flying to the ground, a result of her speed upon impact.

She let out a small cry, more from the shock than as a consequence of any pain she felt on hitting the ground. She didn't have time to look up at the human obstacle before he bent down to her to check the damage.

"Mary! My god, you seemed to come out of nowhere. Are you all right?"

She sighed in relief at the voice she knew so well, thankful that it wasn't some lord who would run in alarm to Catherine that the newly Queen of France was acting rather strangely by running through the hallways in distress. She looked up and smiled weakly at Bash's concerned look.

"I am all right, Bash, just ashamed. I should not have rounded the corner so quickly," she replied, attempting to rise. She felt like a right idiot lying on the floor in front of him.

She winced slightly as she leaned on her elbow, which had apparently taken the brunt of the impact.

"Let me help you - I don't want you further injuring yourself," Bash said, offering an arm to help Mary back to her feet. Her cheeks went red, not remembering the last time they had touched. As she gripped his arm, she couldn't help the memories of their kisses from seeping into her consciousness.

Once they had both risen, she clung to him for a moment longer than necessary. It was her own vulnerability which was dictating her actions, she knew.

"Mary, is something wrong? You seem rather out of sorts. And why were you running through the halls? I could hear your approach even before you rounded the corner."

Mary hesitated - she was still clinging to his arm, though Bash did not seem at all bothered. She wanted to just shake it off, assuring him that she was just late for a meeting with someone of Francis's advisors, and move along into the solace of her chambers and her own thoughts. But her heart wanted comfort. She wanted to confide everything to Bash - to vent her frustrations, to seek his advice, and, above all, to gain some comfort.

As Mary looked up into his eyes, there seemed to be only one way forward. "I… I just locked the gates. And Francis rode off. He can't come back. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen. He just went to her. He can't come back!" she said hysterically, her voice rising with every admission.

Bash's face changed from one of concern to one of alarm, and he slowly ushered her toward to door of her chambers. "Come, let's sit down and get you some wine… and then we can talk."


	2. Chapter 2

Lola's screams permeated the small cottage. She had lost count of how long she had felt her labor pains, but she knew it had been far too long. Her contractions were coming closer and closer together, which her hostess, Beatrice, had told her meant the baby was trying to come into this world. But that was the end of the comforting words. Beatrice was clear with her that this did not seem like it would be an easy birth, and she herself had no skill in delivering babies. The local midwife was not coming. Lola was virtually alone.

Her only hope was that Mary would send help. Surely she could at least send Nostradamus, whose skill in medicine would provide great comfort to her. But she estimated it had been over two hours now, at least, since she had sent her letter, and there was no sign of any assistance.

Beatrice tried to provide some physical comfort, wiping Lola's brow as she tilted her head upward to scream. She had tried to be reserved with her pain at first, desperately not wanting to frighten her hostess, but she had lost all will to be decorous hours ago, when the pains had turned to be particularly sharp.

A heavy knock sounded at the door, and Lola thought she might be hallucinating. Could help have really come? She was doubtful, but Beatrice had clearly heard the knock too, as she rose from Lola's side to answer the door.

Lola used all her strength to sit up slightly to see who had come. She questioned her own mind once again when she saw Francis walk through the door.

He went straight to her, without taking a second glance at Beatrice. "Lola… my god, are you all right? We received your letter at the castle and I came as quickly as I could."

Lola stared at Francis, not believing that he was really there. "Francis… you've come. Did Mary tell you…" she trailed off, not knowing how to ask the question.

Francis nodded, taking Lola's hand in his own. "I can't believe you kept this secret from me this whole time. You should have told me!" he nearly yelled, but thought better of starting an argument. "Anyway, none of that matters now. I'm here to help in whatever way I can."

Lola winced, managing to stifle another scream as a contraction came on. She squeezed Francis's hand, grateful for a friendly face to help her through her pain. But then it dawned on her… no one was with him.

"Did you not bring Nostradamus? Or a midwife?"

Francis closed his eyes, shaking his head slowly. "There has been an outbreak of plague in the village, and they have closed the castle gates. I only just made it out in time, but we could not allow anyone else to leave, for they would not be allowed to return."

Lola stared straight ahead, trying to process what she had just been told. No one was allowed to leave… but Francis did. How could Mary have let him venture into a village that was ravaged by plague?

"But… but you left. How could Mary let you? You're the Dauphin of France. You can't just ride out into a village that is currently beset by plague!"

In the background, Beatrice gasped at the dark word: plague. "Plague! This must be why the midwife could not come - she has been afflicted! How do I know you have not brought the plague here yourself?" She yelled, and then, suddenly remembering herself, "if you don't mind me asking, your royal highness."

"I have rode straight here from the castle, there is little chance that I have brought plague, madame. And to answer your question, Lola, Mary did not want me to leave. She begged me to stay. But… I couldn't leave you alone. My duty is to protect the people of France, and you are one of those people."

Lola did not know what to say to Francis's proclamation. Surely her relationship with Mary would now be ruined forever, if she were to survive this ordeal. Before she could respond, Francis spoke up again.

"And I suppose it is my duty to inform you that my father has died… I am now King of France," Francis nearly choked out the words, as if he did not want to admit it to himself.

Beatrice immediately sunk to the ground in a bow to Francis, letting out a small "your majesty" as she did so. Lola was in shock, though her contraction pains had started again, saving her from having to say anything further.

Francis turned to Beatrice, reaching out his arms to raise her up to standing. "Please, there is no midwife, and I obviously have no experience in bringing children into this world. Have you given birth yourself? We must work together to help my lady in any way we can."

Though Beatrice had been quite blunt about the direness of Lola's situation before, she suddenly changed tunes in knowing that she was addressing the King of France. "Of course, your majesty. I helped my sister give birth, and will do whatever I can to help the lady along. I should warn you though - she has been in labor for too long already. I fear this will not be an easy birth, and both mother and child are at risk."

Francis winced at this, and Lola noticed the pain visible on his face at the sign that death could come knocking at this door. She felt momentarily touched. Though she was unsure how much help both Francis and Beatrice would be, at least she had a close friend by her side.

Beatrice prepared boiling water and began ripping cloths in a nearby corner, while Francis removed his riding cloak and knelt by her side. Lola tried to smile at him, through her discomfort. She was not only in pain, but also slightly embarrassed that he would witness what was about to take place. She had never seen a childbirth herself, but she understood that it was a messy business.

"We're going to get through this. Together. I don't want you think that you will ever be alone in this, Lola," Francis said, staring into Lola's eyes with true sincerity. Lola knew that he meant beyond just the birthing itself.

Taking advantage of her moment in between contractions, Lola decided to speak frankly to Francis. "Francis, I don't want to become a burden for you and Mary. I don't want to be in the way. All I ask is that I can retire to somewhere in the country, where I can raise the child on my own," she said, and, as she felt the sharp pain return once again, added "that is, if we both survive this."

"Don't say that," Francis said, almost frantically. "You'll get through this… and we will decide together how best to raise our child."

It sounded strange to her, "our" - but she couldn't deny that it made her feel better. It's not that she wanted to be alone with a child, but her guilt over the whole situation was constantly nagging her. It would be my punishment to be alone, she thought.

Beatrice returned then, setting her boiling water and rags at the foot of the bed, and she indicated that it was time for her to take a look at how far long Lola really was.

Lola nodded, hesitating, for how much did this stranger really know about birthing? Even so, it was better than nothing, so she allowed her to reach under her dress and to her most intimate spot to examine her.

Beatrice nodded, saying that things were looking better than expected. "She is dilated as much as she should be… it shouldn't be long now. As long as the baby is not breech, all should go according to plan."

Lola let out a sigh of relief, a breath that she felt she had been holding since the labor pains started. She might just get her child after all. It was a strange feeling, for she hadn't done much thinking about the actual baby - she had been too busy thinking about the predicament she was in, the problems that this baby was causing. Now that he or she was almost here, it dawned on her that she was about to become a mother. Beyond that, she was about to become the mother of the King's first child.

Beatrice motioned that it was time for Lola to begin pushing. The time was here. Francis immediately offered Lola his hand once more, and she took it gratefully. The pains increased, and Lola did all she could to push, as Beatrice had instructed. This was it. She wanted this baby now more than anything, and so she braced herself, agreeing to take on whatever pain was necessary to bring her and Francis's child into the world.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: First, thank you SO much to everyone who has reviewed so far! You are truly motivating me to keep writing! This is my first fanfic so your comments mean a lot! Second, I have purposely not revealed whether this is a "Mash" or "Frary" story - I want to keep you in suspense! It's more fun that way, I promise ;-) **

Bash wasn't sure what he was thinking as he led Mary into her chambers and softly closed the door behind them. Maybe he wasn't thinking at all. But the anguish on Mary's face was real, and he couldn't ignore that. Too much had passed between them for him to ignore her pain.

He guided her to the settee in the middle of the room, careful not to stand too close, or to touch her unnecessarily. It was easy for him to be sucked in by her, to forget everything else and do whatever it took to please her. But, this time, Kenna's image burned in his mind. Their marriage was not what either of them had wanted at the time, but their love had now just begun to blossom. Bash had told her so earlier that evening - that he loved her. She had brought him out of such a dark place. He had been devastated for so many reasons - the love of his life deserting him, having the crown snatched from his hands, just when he had started getting used to the idea of being King. And, perhaps worst of all, being virtually abandoned by his family. His mother had left, his father hated him, and his brother constantly eyed him with suspicion. It was unsurprising, after all that had happened.

But then Kenna was thrust upon him, and she was coming from a similarly dark place. They had supported each other, loved each other, so that Kenna was now a truly bright light in his life.

Bash swiftly poured a goblet of wine for Mary, suddenly torn from his thoughts about Kenna into a deja vu situation - his mind went back to the first time Mary had kissed him.

"It's funny," he began, handing Mary the wine, which she was quick to gulp, "I find I can't help being brought back to another time where I was handing you wine to calm you down."

He had said it with a lightness, in an effort to calm the mood and lift Mary's spirits, but she just gazed at him, looking utterly at a loss for words. His joke had clearly gone a bit awry, it looked almost as if he had scared her.

He checked himself. "Not to worry, I think we've both learned enough that we can now talk without… without… err, you know…" he trailed off, awkwardly. He felt like banging his head against a wall - why did he ever think it would be a good idea to bring up their past?

Mary blinked then, seemingly bringing herself back to reality. "It's fine, Bash, I'm afraid it's just that my mind is all over the place at the moment. I'm being pulled in all different directions. I hardly know how to even start talking to you."

Bash nearly reached out to grab her hand then, but thought better of it. Instead he sat back, and tried to help her express her thoughts. "Well, let's start at the beginning, I suppose. You said you've locked the gates?"

Mary nodded, taking another long gulp of wine before she began. "There are reports of plague in the village… we need to protect the castle."

Bash's eyes went wide. Plague. It was exactly as the old crone had said - this was the punishment being brought about by the darkness. There could be little doubt of this. Still, he felt it best to keep this from Mary… she clearly had other things troubling her, and learning that he was somewhat responsible for this pestilence was the last thing she probably wanted to hear.

"And… I take it Francis has gone, as you said? What did you mean when you said he went to 'her'?"

At this, Mary bent her head, tears prickling her eyes. Bash had expected this reaction, but he had had to ask.

"Francis is the father of Lola's child. She is giving birth as we speak… in the village."

Mary sniffled, clearly trying to fight back the tears that were begging to be released. Bash was almost too taken aback to notice. Francis and Lola? He quickly did some mental math in his head, realizing that their relations must have taken place while Mary was engaged to himself. Francis had been in Paris.

"I… I'm a bit stunned to hear that. I take it this relationship took place while you and I were engaged?"

Mary's head shot up then, anger flashing instantly in her eyes. "Does that make it right? Was it right for him to sleep with one of my best friends just because we were not together?"

Bash considered this for a moment, and then said, "Well, it's no different from the relationship that we had, was it? Ours was even worse. I am Francis's brother."

They were daring words for him to say, but it was true. How could Mary be so angry, when she herself had cast Francis aside in the first place?

"Oh, please! It is absolutely different. First of all, I only became engaged to you for the good of my country," she paused then, perhaps knowing that these words would hurt him, but then went on "and besides, we never slept together."

Bash let out a laugh then, amazed by the absurdity of it all. "Indeed, I suppose I was too much of a gentleman to wait until we were wed. I should have taken you while I had the chance."

Mary gasped. He knew his words would shock her. He had probably gone too far - forgetting the fact that he was meant to be comforting her, not bringing up baggage from the past.

"Forgive me, your grace," he began, reverting back to the formality of their positions, "I know not what I say."

A silence hung between them for several seconds, neither quite knowing how to proceed. Bash tried to trace their conversation back to the start, and decided it was best to hear Mary out and respond in a way which would help her, not hurt her.

"Please, do go on. I'm assuming that Francis has left the castle in order to attend to Lola in the village?"

Mary nodded, not making any effort to say anything further. Bash knew he would have to draw her out a bit, to make her trust him once more.

"Mary, if Francis rides straight to where Lola is staying, I'm sure he will be safe from the pestilence," Bash said, knowing that, at the root of it all, Mary was afraid for Francis's life above all else.

His words seemed to have the opposite effect, for Mary choked back a sob, turning from him as her tears began to flow. Bash acted upon instinct, feeling responsible then for making her feel so scared, and so sad. Saying "Francis" and "pestilence" in the same sentence had no doubt conjured up terrible images in her mind.

He reached out to her - he could just barely reach from where he was sitting across from her - and pulled her into his arms. She went to him willingly, nearly falling into his embrace and he wrapped his arms around her body. She cried into his shirt, and his only thought was to keep her close to him, as a means of shielding her from the evil in the world. Bash was still seated, and Mary naturally fell into his lap in a deepening of their embrace.

After a few moments, Mary pulled back slightly, enough to look at him straight in the eye. She was still so close. The scent of lavender in her hair wafted up to his nose, and he felt her short, quick breaths on his neck. He felt as if he could drown in her. Why was she not pulling back?

And then, she did. Suddenly and quickly, standing up and rubbing her hands down the sides of her dress, as if to wipe their embrace clean from her body's memory. Bash stood up as well and looked down to the ground, unsure - as he usually was in her presence - of how to proceed.

"I… I'm sure you're right, Bash. I don't know what we'll do when he returns, for we really should not let anyone into the castle when there is such a threat of disease. But he is the King, after all."

Bash stepped forward once again, placing his hands on her upper arms, looking down at her as he had so many times before. "Everything will be fine, Mary. Francis is strong and he is smart. I am sure he will do everything he can to return to you safely."

Mary nodded, though began backing away from his touch. "I hope so. He is my husband, and the King of France. He is much needed here. I need him here," she said, pointedly looking Bash in the eyes as she did. Yes, she was certainly trying to get a point across. She was distancing herself from him physically and mentally.

And with that, Bash decided it was very much time to leave her be. "I will take my leave of you then, your grace, unless you require anything else?" he was being brutally formal, he knew, but she had made him feel it was necessary.

She stared after him as he began to back his way to the door, and Bash thought he could almost sense an internal struggle going on within. But, she eventually responded, with finality and purpose that no, she did not need him any more.


	4. Chapter 4

Mary felt exhausted. Her conversation with Bash had been the opposite of comforting. It had, instead, only added to her list of frustrations. She couldn't deny that she enjoyed having him close to her, and she hadn't been able to stop herself from teasing out his past feelings for her. Still, she wasn't entirely sure if he felt as strongly - or, indeed, if he felt anything at all anymore for her.

But his words, rough as they were, "I should have taken you while I had the chance," rang in her ears. She couldn't erase that part of the conversation from her mind. There was something animalistic in what he had said, and she should have slapped him for it. Instead, she felt her mouth curve up in a small smile as she replayed how he looked as he had said it. Part of her - a part she often buried deep and kept hidden - had regretted their lack of intimacy during their brief engagement. Sleeping with Francis before they had been married had awaken something new in her - it had opened up the door for her sexually. She had wanted to wait for Bash - but she remembered also feeling disappointed that he had not tried to do anything beyond kiss her.

She sat once again, splaying herself out across the settee, refilling her goblet. Her head was starting to spin, but it was only fitting to her mood. The memories practically made her dizzy. She thought back again, to just before she had left Bash - when she thought they would be married that day. "Don't plan on sleeping this night, wife," his words echoed in her brain. She had played it off at the time, acting as the timid virgin that she knew she wasn't. Inside, she was thrilled.

Mary sighed, shaking her head. It was pointless for her to sit here, reminiscing about a time that was so long gone. Besides, she had more important things to do than drink wine and sulk.

She decided it was best to summon a meeting with Nostradamus and Catherine, to strategize about what needed to be done to deal with the plague. In Francis's absence, someone had to take charge.

She walked quickly to Catherine's chambers, where she found Nostradamus already providing counsel. "The figures we have so far are not promising," he commented, "Already 100 deaths reported in the past two days in the village."

Mary swallowed hard, fear rising in her throat over the thought of Francis being in the midst of all this death. "What precautions can we take from here?"

Nostradamus shook his head, indicating there was little that could be done. "All we can really do is wait it out - there are no medicines I have that can be of any help. The local doctors in the village will know some means of easing the suffering, by attempting to pop the boils and so on."

"And what about Francis? He has ridden straight into the epidemic!" Catherine exclaimed. Mary was grateful for her concern - it was the one area in which they both felt strongly - Francis's wellbeing.

Nostradamus sighed, looking down at his hands before answering. "Normally, I would say no one should be let into the castle, especially those who have had contact with an infected area. But… he is the King of France. We should, of course, make an exception."

Mary was beyond delighted at his assessment. "That is what I feel as well, Nostradamus, but it is good to hear that you agree. Is there any danger that someone inside the castle is already infected?"

Nostradamus nodded. "Of course, we have constant contact with the village and the surrounding area. Our food comes from the surrounding farms. I would not be surprised if we did have an outbreak in the castle."

Both Catherine and Mary exchanged worried glances. Mary had never witnessed an outbreak of plague before, but she had heard plenty of stories about the ruthlessness of the disease. It spared no one, and it acted quickly, with many of its victims dying within days.

"What actions do you recommend we take, Nostradamus?"

Nostradamus considered the situation for a few seconds, and then calmly said "if anyone exhibits symptoms of any kind, bring them to me immediately. We will quarantine them in the west wing of the castle. If the disease has already made its way inside, it is likely those infected will show symptoms within the next few days."

"And… what? We just leave them, people from noble families, there to die?" Catherine asked, her voice becoming more and more frantic.

"The survival rate is low. I will do my best, but in all likelihood, anyone who sickens with the plague will succumb to it."

Mary paced the room, knowing that Nostradamus was right. All they could do is keep people calm, take their mind off of the sickness and encourage them to go about their daily business as much as possible.

"We should throw a ball," Mary said impulsively. It was the first thing that sprang into mind when she thought of providing a distraction.

"A ball? Is that your solution to everything, throw a party?" Catherine asked.

"It will take the plague off people's minds, make them feel more easy about the fact that they are locked indoors. They cannot go out to find entertainment, so let us bring the entertainment to them. We have all the resources here, do we not?"

Nostradamus nodded. "We may be short on food, but the kitchen staff can give us a better idea of the situation. It is a good idea to head off any sort of panic - some believe stress weakens the body and makes disease more likely to invade."

"Are you both mad?" Catherine chimed in, looking at each of them with incredulity. "You're suggesting a ball, where there is dancing and everyone is touching, and people inevitably end up in each others' beds that night? You think that is a good way to contain disease?"

Mary nearly burst out laughing at Catherine's description of a ball. "Catherine, we all live in the same quarters as it is. If there is an outbreak, we don't need a ball to help it spread."

"And besides," Mary added, before Catherine had a chance to respond, "I am the new Queen of France. We have a reason to celebrate."

Catherine glared at Mary, not missing the implication of her words, that Catherine was now only the Dowager Queen, and that she ultimately had to obey Mary. "Well, it will be a sad affair, as we will all be dressed in black. Or have you forgotten that Henry only just died?"

"The celebration will not just be for me. We will make a point to celebrate the life of Henry. I'm sure he would approve of us having a ball to do so - he always loved merriment, did he not?"

Catherine had no reply to this, and must have decided it wasn't worth arguing further. "Do what you will, then. This discussion has tired me out… if you'll excuse me, I'd like to take a nap."

Mary and Nostradamus took their cue to leave Catherine's chambers, and Mary was grateful for a moment alone with him. "How much danger do you think we are really in, Nostradamus?" she asked as Catherine's doors were closed behind them.

"I won't skirt around the issue, your grace. This is very deadly epidemic, and given statistics from the past, it's likely that at least some people from this castle will die," he said, looking down at her with grave eyes. "I just hope the King returns soon."

Mary looked down as she felt cheeks go red. It was difficult to hide her embarrassment, that her husband had left her at such a dire time. She would obviously have to face this if she were to hold a ball, without the King of France present.

"I take it Catherine told you where he went?" she asked, knowing full well that Catherine confided everything to her trusted advisor.

Nostradamus nodded. "I would have gone… to Lola, that is. It's just Catherine forbade it…" he trailed off, but Mary understood. Nostradamus' allegiance was to Catherine, and he would obey her above all else.

"It's fine," she said, putting a reassuring hand on his arm, not wanting to discuss the matter further. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must speak to the staff about planning this ball!"


End file.
